


Watch Party

by H3L



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 12:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18739351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H3L/pseuds/H3L
Summary: Jaime has Brienne over every Sunday to watch their favorite show but it's the last season and this week's episode is particularly hard on Brienne.





	Watch Party

**Author's Note:**

> Look, this is awful but I needed it. Needed. It. And honestly, writing it made me feel better so it served it's purpose. If you are looking for something with substance and character development, or something with more than 800 words, you have come to the wrong place. This is a marshmallow of a fic and that's the tea.

“I can't believe it, I can't-” Brienne sighed, slumping deeper into Jaime's over-sized sofa. He'd never been so grateful to Tyrion for hiring movers to get the Essosi leather monstrosity out of Jaime's old penthouse before their father had the locks changed. Seeing Brienne flop blissfully into the leather for the first time after a morning run had made the whole hassle worth it. Now though, her cheeks were flushed purple in the blue light and her large bottom lip poked out, making her look pouty and sullen. “I can't believe he's just going to leave her like that,” she whispered, dazed. 

Jaime knew Nikolaj and Gwendoline were Brienne's heroes, seven hells, she'd wrote her masters thesis on Goldenhand the Just and the Maid of Tarth. They were more to her than historical figures, or characters on a show. Tears had begun to glitter in her big, blue eyes and Jaime felt his heart clench painfully in his chest. Over the last two years, he had never seen Brienne cry. Sure he had frustrated her to the point of rage once or twice, he could be an unbelievable asshole, but never tears. He turned towards her, carefully lifting up the popcorn bowl that separated their thighs and depositing it on the floor. “Hey, I don't know why you're so devastated,” he said, carefully scooting closer to her unbelievably long, bent-up knees. She'd dragged them into her lap midway through the show and sometime near to the end she had started to fold in on herself. When she didn't turn to look at him, Jaime scooted closer still and put a hand out to shake the leg closest to him. “Wench,” he called her, mimicking Goldenhand. “Hey, you've read the history books. Hells, woman, you could write one. You already know how it ends – Nikolaj gets the girl.” 

Finally she turned her full, baleful gaze on him. “I know,” she whispered, “I know he has to go to King's Landing to kill the queen and I know he eventually settles on the Maid's island it's just...” 

“Hard to see the Maid of Tarth cry?” He asked, feeling intimately aware of exactly how awful that sensation could be. Brienne laughed harshly and wiped her eyes with the heels of her palms. 

“Yeah, is that crazy? I know they've both been dead for hundreds of years and it most definitely did not happen like this – the writers are taking so many liberties that this is more of a soap opera than a history show but it's heartbreaking. Ugh, I feel so stupid.” Jaime carefully laid his arm over the back of the sofa and tucked her against his shoulder. She had, somehow, slipped her over six foot frame low enough on the cushions that she could comfortably rest her head against him. He felt his weak right hand shake in his lap and gripped it rhythmically trying to relieve the tremor but Brienne reached over and took his mangled fingers in her own without blinking. It was not uncommon for her to massage his injured fingers, not for at least a year, but he felt his breath quicken and his mind go blank.

“Is it hot in here? I'm hot,” Jaime would have tugged at his collar or even adjusted the crotch of his pants if he'd had a free hand to do so but he was reluctant to move the one he had wrapped around Brienne's shoulder and he suspected she wouldn't easily relinquish the one she was working on. She blamed herself for his injury, he knew, even though the only person to blame was that fetid cock Vargo Hoat. Jaime had saved her and a mangled hand was a small price to pay. He would have sacrificed the whole of his hand if it meant keeping her in his life. She was so important to him, so important to who he wanted to be. She had no idea.

“Is it hot?” Brienne asked distractedly, her gaze finally coming up from the hand cradled in her lap, to meet his his own. His words caught in his throat. Whatever he had been about to say just didn't matter anymore, not with her open expression so close to his. Jaime knew he must look like an idiot, he felt how soft his eyes must look and knew his mouth was hanging half open in the shock of how much he suddenly felt. With a gulp, he leaned in to her, his body easily finding Brienne's and his face inching towards her like a flower to the sun. “What are you doing?” Her whisper ghosted over his lips and he savored her breath on his skin for a moment before answering. 

“Kissing you,” he told her. And when she nodded her assent, he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Thank you for shipping. Good luck, friends.


End file.
